The Dysfunctional Duo
by Lydian Stone
Summary: Watching his normally angst ridden friend desperately try to fit an undependable CIA agent into this role as ideal boyfriend just did not sit right with McGee.  TIVA, but chock full of McGee.  Spoilers through Episode 9.3.
1. Chapter 1

********Spoilers through 9.03********

**A/N I honestly don't see how we are supposed to digest Ziva's needy devotion to an absent Ray when last season they had her pining for 'something permanent.' I decided to vent through McGee and Tony and this is the result. I have 5 chapters finished and will upload them as they are polished, likely one each day or two. It turns into TIVA, with McGee reluctantly caught in the middle. **

**Emotional Lepers**

"But aren't you concerned? It's just not like Ziva to seem so . . . " McGee's face contorted in an attempt to come up with the right word, well, at least a kinder word that conveyed the same meaning as pathetic. ". . . hopeful?" He started up the steps to the witness' apartment after the senior field agent.

"Hopeful, huh? At least someone is clinging to some shred of hope for a happily ever after." Tony casually tossed a grim smile back and lightly continued, "She's a big girl McWorry Wart, and she deserves some pleasant distractions. The guy's not a terrorist or dying of radiation so I guess that alone is a reason for her to be giddy. If it doesn't work out then at least she'll have the memories, if it does, well, then I guess we'll be the ones with the memories." He said this all with the nonchalance of one ruing the decision to have the chicken instead of the steak, but the internal thud Tony felt after voicing their (and by 'their' he really meant 'his') risk of exposure to more personal loss had him feeling anything but philosophically unattached.

Tim's expression did not ease at Tony's response. Tony had suffered trials, Gibbs had suffered loss and Ziva had suffered . . . well, what hadn't Ziva suffered? All those team demons were on a gargantuan scale, the combined damage suffered by those three should render each as emotional lepers, and Tim was unclean by association. McGee certainly had his own issues, but they tended to be more conventional. He had an impossible to please father, had been bullied and had lost friends to death, but nothing out of the common purview of suck-it-up level woes. Yet he was surrounded by teammates who redefined the word anguish. So, to see one who is normally angst ridden suddenly trying to fit an undependable CIA agent into this role as ideal boyfriend, well, it just did not sit right and he knew enough to stock up on umbrellas when he saw a storm brewing.

While DiNozzo's vision of Ziva's potential fulfillment of the American Dream did seem to be magnanimous, Tim was well aware of the toll it had taken on the man just to utter the words exalting Ray to fill the role of prince charming. He was a movie buff, after all, fully aware that the outcome of nearly all chick flicks could be reduced to one of two story lines (1) the heroic rescue of a seemingly independent damsel in distress followed by the trite happily ever after or (2) the realization that the best friend has been "The One" all along followed by the trite happily ever after. Either way this movie played out it seemed that Tony couldn't lose and love would prevail. Except this was Tony . . . and this was Ziva . . . and when has anything worked the way it should?

The one comfort that made McGee smile was that no matter what, he would be that one friend in the film that saw what was going on. He honestly couldn't help but find Ziva attractive, what guy with a pulse wouldn't? But it was never been like _that_ for him. He loved her, no doubt about it, but it was more like he wanting to keep her demons away, like he did with Sarah when she had nightmares rather than wanting to know how it would feel to have her lips on his. He cringed at the derailment of his train of thought. That was SO not where his mind needed to go.

Puppies!

All the time spent in Abby's lab had taught steady Agent McGee that a vision of fuzzy animals could supplant a disturbing image from one's mind like nothing else. Admittedly, "disturbing" normally came in the form of decomposing corpses rather than compromising situations with coworkers, but it was still proving to be a useful coping mechanism. Puppies, puppies, puppies! Fuzzy puppies frolicking in a field lead to thoughts of a tattooed, milky skinned forensic scientists and suddenly his mind was much more pleasantly engaged and he found that the idea of romantic entanglements with the right coworker were delightfully more than palatable. His own film (well the novels he had lived vicariously through) would have him staring in the "The One" all along scenario, Abby just needed to realize that she had a role to play and that there are even better things to think about than puppies.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N This is mostly Tony's thoughts, but don't worry, more McGee to come.**

**Degrees of Happily Ever After**

When they returned from their interview, Tony sat at his desk, sighed then chose Excederin this go around. Tim seemed to have let go of his concern for Ziva after their conversation, but Tony, who had felt as though he was confined to a Jarvis imposed vacuum, could not. The agent was now at liberty to talk with his team, but really, what was there to say? Though things had been well over with EJ for months, she, or her body at least, were MIA and he should have prevented her pain and Cade's death. He held little hope that EJ's body would not one day wash up on the Potomac, yet he could not imagine that scenario with her looking anything but completely intact. He had been a cop long enough to digest that closure was a luxury, and "moving on" did nothing to lessen the accumulated inadequacy and guilt that he felt defined him. So he was moving on, mainlining over the counter painkillers to counter tension headaches, and trying to attain that elusive balance in his life that Ziva at one time urged him to seek.

He looked across the bullpen at Ziva, who smiled while she typed, probably another email to Ray that may or may not ever be read. Tony really had not talked to her about anything of substance for months. He was so drawn into himself and even though Ziva, who was bred to understand orders, made an effort to let him know that she was there for him, Tony had been decidedly absent from her life. He did find it curious that Ziva, who longed so much to have consistency in her new life, would throw so much into a seemingly one-sided relationship with a CIA agent. She did seem happy, but McGee had a point. She also seemed a little persistent and, oh no, he dared not think of Ziva as needy, but she was spending a lot of time "communicating" with a guy who left her months ago with no idea of his whereabouts and little if any contact since. Suddenly he felt very sad. Even though from the outside she did seem enthusiastic, Tony knew that she was most likely convincing herself that this was the best she could do with her future and perhaps she was right. She had invested over a year in this relationship, and if it fell to bits, well, she would have nothing . . . again. Not unlike himself, hence the sadness.

Tony wondered why, if she could decide to be happy even with a less than ideal situation, it bothered him so much. Maybe because he knew he could never settle for contentment over fulfillment. He lived in pursuit of the elusive happily ever after, which perhaps is why he existed in a state closer to misery than bliss. When Ray came onto the scene and Ziva became very cryptic, Tony distanced himself from her. Looking back he knew even though it was not a conscious decision on his part, it had been his doing. If he was there for her as a friend should have been, she might have told him that Ray was CIA, and he might have been able to shield her in some way from settling, but then again, Ziva had intentionally kept that detail from them all, even Gibbs. And at the end of the day she wasn't _his _to protect, he had no claim on the quality of her future life. Despite Ray's platitudes about the CIA being what he did and not who he was, for all intents and purposes, there was nothing separate of him from the life the CIA dictated. Ziva deserved so much better than being expected to wait through the unknown for a glimpse of the man to whom she was devoted.

Deduction and problem solving were Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo's fortes. (And he couldn't think the word 'fortes' without inserting his full name and title for dramatic flair). His musings boiled down to a few concrete thoughts. (1) Ziva deserved better (2) This will likely not end well and (3) He had been a terrible friend. Two of those were out of his control. However, if he could make an effort to once again be a part of Ziva's life that extended beyond the orange boundaries of NCIS, there may be hope, and this time not a false hope grown out of resignation. But he had to make an effort. There was no cruise control option on friendship, and that's exactly how he had been functioning.

The object of his musings paused in her pursuits to look across to her partner's slack-jawed glassy stare and wrinkled her brow. "Tony, are you alright?"

He made himself smile, and tried to make it a sincere one, as though he was seeing her clearly for the first time in months. "I think I will be." Honesty is a good start. "Hey, would you want to run with me to get lunch?"

She looked at him with her penetrating eyes as though she could sense that this was more than an olive branch after the cool distance Tony required all summer. "I would like that very much."

McGee tried to hide his relief at seeing Ziva's genuine smile that had nothing to do with Ray and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to go home to his typewriter and at least give Tommy and Lisa a fictitious happily ever after.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N This begins with Ziva, but not to worry, the second half is Tony and McGee banter. I did actually pare down Ziva's thoughts as much as I could so you could get on to the good stuff!**

**Reflection & Deflection**

It was during a walk after work to a local deli when she stopped in her tracks.

Tony had seemed more introspective of late, and Ziva David was not blind to this seriousness that seeped through the comical veneer more often than not. She also was aware that he could independently support the local CVS with how many pills she had seen him take in a day. She noted him rotating various kinds of OTC painkillers every few hours ever since his assignment ended, and it no longer could be attributed to the concussion. She would never let on that she knew exactly what and how many pills he was taking, just as long as it was kept to safe combinations and dosages.

In the past weeks, Tony's inclination to work independently had waned and he had inserted himself socially back into the team. If she had to define the changes she observed, she would say he was more intentional rather than just going with the natural flow of post-traumatic team relationship restoration ala Team Gibbs. He rarely went to grab their take away lunches without asking her or Tim to accompany him. When it was Ziva by his side it was hard to keep a conversation on him, as though he was hungry to hear her speak. Normally conversations stayed light and at least tangentially case related but there were times he asked about Ray, just "Ray," not "CI-Ray," "Her Ray of Sunshine" or any other nickname. He did not even seem to inject that Alpha male dominant tone of superiority that permeated conversations of Ray in the past. In fact his tone had taken on a somewhat . . . resigned camaraderie.

That thought was what caused her to forgo dinner. Something was wrong. Even though she and Tony were never and item, he had always been protective, even possessive of her, courting her in a sense, although they both knew it was flirting and friendship at the core.

He was letting her go.

She felt her chest constrict and could go no farther. She found a bench to collect her thoughts. Was he sick? Were the headaches due to more than stress? Or was he simply . . . loosening his grip and allowing her, even encouraging her, to pursue a life without him intimately involved in it?

After an hour's reflection of past events she finally admitted with brutal lucidity that Ray was what she _chose _to focus on all summer. She had needed to anchor her thoughts so that they were not all consumed by the danger she felt enveloping her partner, the distance between them and the despair at knowing all the missed chances would never amount to anything. She had _wanted_ to believe that she had been amorously captivated with Ray this whole time but she had been deceiving herself by supposing her deepest affections lay outside the bullpen.

Ziva had persisted in denying herself such clarity, maybe due to her pride wanting to spare her from yet another failed relationship. Perhaps it was resignation. Ray was a good man, but not dependable and she deserved to be abandoned now and then, even if it was agency imposed.

The deli was denied its patroness and the bench stayed warm until well after the sun turned its back on the pensive woman. Her feelings for Ray were now fully dissected and she knew she needed to act. Despite what was happening with Tony, Ray deserved to be at liberty to move on. He would not necessarily know of his change in circumstance for some time, but she did the most sensitive thing she could by spending the remainder of the evening writing a letter with honest wishes for his future happiness, addressed to his office at the CIA, knowing it would find him in the field eventually.

She posted it with a monumental degree of relief.

The next day an altered Agent David arrived at work. Gibbs even surreptitiously glanced at her left hand to see if the sudden peace stemmed from the fulfillment of the empty promise of months past. There was no ring, which each man had independently noted before the gruff battle cry of, "Grab your gear" was uttered. Back to dead marines and evidence. Tony fidgeted all morning and seemed to be slightly irritable and definitely sarcastic. He knew a day might come when he would have to offer his best wishes for her compromised future and her glowiness (and her expression warranted the genesis of such a word) could only be foreshadowing of that dreaded event. He did _want_ to be happy for her in theory, but he honestly had not accepted the possibility that Ray would ever actually come through for her and so he found himself unprepared and edgy.

McGee was observant and more objective than Tony. He noticed the serenity engulfing his friend, but he also noticed the lack of monosyllabic names being dropped in connection with her smile. He weathered the anxiety oozing out of Tony while trying to absorb some of Ziva's unusual calm. By lunch when Tim offered to make the run, he asked Tony to join him. Reluctantly, the senior agent agreed.

Once they left the confines of NCIS Tim blurted out, "Tony, just ask her already."

He slowed his steps, gave a half laughing reply of "I don't know what you're talking about. By 'her' I can only assume you mean our little Batgirl, McRobin, but riddle me this, what am I supposed to be asking?"

McGee wisely ignored the fact that he was being referred to as a sidekick yet again and resisted the urge to point out the Gibbs would be Batman in that scenario and Tony most resembled the Joker, especially with the frequency of his "Jack" impressions, which Tim had to admit were pretty good. Out of respect on that last thought alone he sensibly continued, "Of course I mean Ziva. There's obviously something going on," and he added enjoying the torment he saw on his friend's face, "so just do us all a favor and ask her already before you blow a gasket."

Switching genres, Tim delivered his line as if on cue from an overdone rom-com, then absently wondered why the lead women are never happy Goths with tats and pigtails. Maybe quirky sidekicks should have a genre of their own.

In a brief moment of candor the smile faded and Tony looked fragile. "What if I just want one more day before knowing that she's made her choice?" He ran a hand through his hair and left it at the back of his neck and the levity returned. "You realize that Gibbs will be insufferable. Do you remember what happened the last time we had to try and replace her? Yeah, Gibbs will not be happy about this if she's decided to pack up and run off with the Miami Heat."

Tim looked at him with all the patience he had amassed from being surrounded by insecure friends with abandonment issues and said with a restrained hint of condescension, "Gibbs will be insufferable. Right, Tony."

"Well, McSensitive, won't you be sad if she goes? I bet you'd cry your little eyes out while you were doing double the grunt work on your own. But don't worry, I'll give you extra Probie snacks."

Ignoring Tony's immature deflection, Tim replied, "Yes, Tony, I would miss her. She's a close friend and we've been through a lot, including abuse from you. However, until she's ready to tell us what is going on I am not going to worry, and neither should you." With that Tim opened the door to the Chinese restaurant and their conversation was suspended.

Tim counted after they emerged from the shop, 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi 3 Mississippi 4 Miss-

"Why don't you ask her about it since you're such good buddies?" McGee did not expect to get to 10, but he thought Tony would be able to hold out at least 5 seconds. He smiled at the predictability of his friend.

"I admit I am curious, but I am going to wait for her to bring it up, whatever 'it' is. I have noticed that she has not mentioned Ray all day so I would not be surprised if it has something to do with him." More than ten seconds passed, but less than fifteen.

"Huh," and a furrowed brow was the only response he received before Tony's phone rang. "Looks like Gibbs sent out the bat signal. Move those skinny little legs of yours, McSidekick." He glanced Tim up and down then admitted, "I'm a little creeped out that I just pictured you in tights."

"You do realize that Gibbs would be Batman, right?" Even McGee had his limits.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N X-Men and some Star Trek references, but if you're a fan of McGee you should be well versed in Sci-Fi pop culture, so no explanation will be given.**

**Final chapter should be up before the new show tomorrow!**

**The Scrutiny of Professor X**

The rest of the day left Tim feeling like he was the referee of a five-hour staring contest, except the goal seemed to be to covert observation rather any actual eye contact. He resisted the urge to doodle opposing Cyclops or would it be Cyclopsi? Cyclopses? Anyway, two of them (one would have long hair, but still with the X-men uniform, obviously), sitting behind desks, fingers training their laser beams of intense scrutiny directly at each other creating a unified beam with the clashing blast of wills wavering dramatically between them. McGee conceded that this situation could never reach a resolution since Cyclops was his favorite X-man, and he couldn't bear for him (insert 'or her' in this bizarre metaphor), to be dealt a crippling blow, even by another Cyclops.

He regrettably acknowledged that in this scenario, rather than flying the super cool jet with the other X-Men, he'd end up being Professor X, physically ineffective but vigilant, techno-savvy and good for a chat. No doubt accompanied by a very unmanly cup of tea. McGee smiled when he pegged Gibbs as Wolverine – both the silent rugged military type, equipped with knives to spare. The analogy came to an abrupt end with the thought of Abby being Rogue. He nearly became misty-eyed at the possibility of never touching her perfect skin again. He was fleetingly relieved she had a thing for dog collars and not gloves.

Still trying to regain his composure, McGee imagined he was in his own version of Cerebro, focusing his energy on infiltrating DiNozzo's thoughts, which wasn't hard considering that the Asprin and Tylenol were being devoured on a 3 rather than 4-hour rotation.

Nothing said 'I care about your mental stability' like monitoring a partner's drug intake. It tended to be less invasive, more informative and much less painful than having a heart to heart, especially with a guy who may be just delusional enough to truly believe that "probie" was a synonym for "government issued sidekick."

Ziva . . . well, Tim was certain that she had rigged bombs to go off in his mind if he attempted to breach the perimeters of hers. He remembered his resolve to wait for her to approach him, and patience seemed a much more conservative approach when dealing with assassins than attempting mind-melds. He considered letting Tony in on that secret . . . then he remembered that Tony pictured him in tights and decided that he could learn the hard way.

Unaware of the flutter of mental activity from McGee (perhaps because he spent too much time learning Klingon and not enough on Vulcan studies), Ziva kept her own mind busy with attempts to rationalize Tony's change in demeanor. It could have been general resignation resulting from his perceived failure to protect Cade and EJ, or she supposed it could have been something physical, but she could not get a clear read on him and that posed an unsettling challenge. Yet, there was a dead marine to avenge, there were BOLOS to update, there was evidence to process and there were leads to run down, so all she could spare for her partner were frequent squinted assessments of his expressions and the continued monitoring of his actions and of course, analgesics.

The monotony was broken when Tony and Gibbs went to apprehend a suspect. Ziva had not intended to bring up her revelation to anyone quite yet, but she found herself fuelled with curiosity and sitting at the corner of McGee's desk, fingering a pen as though it were a razor sharp throwing knife. Tim was typing half-heartedly waiting for her to begin.

They really were both so predictable.

"Is everything okay with Tony?" She made no eye contact and attempted to sound casual, but Ziva's just can't pull off casual when she's after intel.

Taking a flat tone while half smiling Tim replied, "Whatever do you mean, Ziva?"

"Well, do not tell me that you did not notice that he has been on a 3 hour schedule," she began exaggerated hand flailing, "and we both know that that regiment is normally reserved for post-concussion weeks. Do you know if something is wrong? Is he hiding an injury?"

Tim stopped typing, leaned back in his chair and really looked at her. He shrugged, "Seriously, Ziva, you guys should just talk to each other. I'm sure he is preoccupied, but then again so are you today. Care to share?" He wondered again why the dysfunctional duo consistently made things so much more complicated for themselves, but at least this way he got to be the main supporting actor. Well, the one with the most lines anyway since Gibbs seems to have mastered, "Grab your gear," and little else.

The youngest agent had faced the fact that his own cards were on the table, well, more specifically on Abby's lab table, and on display 24/7. Pathetic or not, considering all the years she's had possession of them and done nothing but shuffle them to the point they were nearly as malleable as fabric, at least he was open and consistent. Timothy McGee had never been alluring in that lethally dramatic way, but he was steadfast and hopeful that in the end that will count for something, especially to a woman who bowls with nuns.

The drama that surrounded him daily was embodied in the petite frame that precariously sat on the corner of his desk. He forgot with how physically effective she was in the field that she remained quite small. He only carried her once, in Somalia, and he assumed that she had been that light because of malnourishment, but she had not seemed to gain much weight since. He had no idea why that concerned him at that moment, probably for the same reason that he audited Tony's meds. He really cared about these insanely destructive people he worked with and someone had to notice these things. So while part of him would love to grab the proverbial popcorn and enjoy the mutual torment, his conscience, which oddly enough sounded decidedly feminine and addressed the rest of his mind as 'Timmy', persuaded him to give them an assist. Ziva was lost in thought and not responding so is was McGee to the rescue, again.

"Ziva, it's obvious that you came in seeming . . . different today and Tony has no doubt jumped to the conclusion that you're planning to elope with Ray this weekend and will leave town, never looking back. So his tension headaches have increased, which has him upping meds and acting up so now, and correct me if I'm wrong, you're worried he has a brain tumor or something along those lines. Does that seem about the size of things?"

Her jaw fell uncharacteristically slack, while taking in my assessment. "Oh, so then he is okay?" And she would have ended it there but Timmy, feeling personally invested in this predicament decided enough is enough.

"I didn't say that, Ziva. Until you talk to him his head is going to pound and he is going to worry. Personally, if you have news that you want to share, I would love to hear it. I would miss you terribly if you left, and I am selfishly hoping that you are not leaving me to deal with Gibbs and Tony on my own, but if it were for a good reason, I'd forgive you . . . in time." As he spoke she smiled mildly.

"Timothy McGee, you are not losing me. I would never intentionally subject you to such working conditions. Something has changed, but not what everyone apparently is assuming. I had a moment of clarity last night. I am not ready to hash out all that is on my mind, but I have decided to break things off with Ray and I find that I am strangely at peace about the situation." A deep exhale escaped from McGee as Ziva squeezed his hand and reveled in the childlike smile she received from her friend. He would have missed her, but she would have missed him more. There were not many conventionally sane people in her social circle and she needed him as a tether.

"Ziva, thanks for telling me, and as much as I would love to hear news that you're going to get your happily ever after, I'm glad it's not going to happen." At this Ziva's expression twisted as though she was hoping that she had not understood his words correctly. Tim backpedaled, "Oh, I mean, I want it to happen for you - to live happily ever after that is, just with the person who is right for you, and I hope you won't move far away or anything when it happens. And . . . I'm sure it will." Tim found himself flustered. So much for a best supporting actor award. Oh well, rom-coms never merit critical acclaim anyway.

Ziva raised a penetrating eyebrow at his vocal fumbling and sauntered back to her desk.

Trying to change the subject he added, "My money's on Advil next."

Tim felt like he needed a stiff drink but settled for a Nutter Butter and a trip down to Abby in the hope it would finally be the day that she would decided to do more than shuffle his cards. He knew it would result in nothing more than glancing touches of her (mercifully) bare hands over her keyboard, but he was thankful for the predictability of his situation, and for dog collars.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Just a note on the last chapter, I imagined Tim's conscience to be Abby's voice, hence the "Timmy." That may not have come across as clearly as I thought. Anyway here comes the TIVA, and of course our favorite geek. **

**Ultimate Pain Relief**

Gibbs and Tony returned with a suspect who, based on the dampness of his trousers, would not be difficult to break. Gibbs roughly guided the guy down to interrogation while Tony made a beeline for his desk drawer. Advil. Both of his teammates nodded to no one in particular. He turned and exited the bullpen without even a glance. Tim didn't have to look up to know that a chair would squeak, and he would feel the slight shift in the bullpen while Ziva eased her way stealthily to follow.

Tony was at the sink, rinsing his face, obviously fighting the relentless pain. Her hand reached for his back and as it stilled at its destination, he stiffened. He knew that she should not be touching him. It may not mean anything to Ziva, but to him it was intimate and he would never indulge in even innocent flirtations with a married, or soon to be married woman. But this _was_ Ziva, and what if this was the last time she could casually flirt? What if when he moved, her hand retracted and the moment was gone forever? He was torn between savoring the moment and being the gentleman he knew he needed to be. He cursed his manners, straightened his back, and used the excuse of grabbing a paper towel to step away from her. His look was indecipherable. She knew the hardness was forced, but the torment was real. He tried valiantly to morph that fleeting expression into one of friendly support but the distance he moved away from her spoke volumes.

"How bad is it?" She broke the silence as she reached to touch his temple to indicate the headache but he flinched. They both froze. Her hand lingered inches from his face and they shared a stunned expression at his involuntary slight.

Finally her hand dropped and he turned towards the mirror, hands on the counter, head hanging low. He could not look at her while he searched for the words, "Ziva, I can't . . . I don't have that right. . . . It would not be right." Her chest constricted as the seconds expanded.

"Tony, I . . ." She didn't know where to start. Never had she felt this much for anyone at any moment in her life. His rejection stemmed from a misunderstanding, but she could not shake the feeling that if she could never again touch Tony, her despair would exceed the distress she saw welling up within him.

He took a moment to check himself. Straightening to his full height he tried nobly to look not miserable, which was the closest to happy for her that he could muster and said with a somewhat rehearsed air, "Ray is a lucky guy. He'll never deserve you, you know." And there was a smile, a sad one, but a smile nonetheless.

He started to worry when he noticed that the slight alteration in her breathing had not resolved, but her expression was unreadable and he knew that her being physically okay was somehow not the point. "No . . . Tony, I . . ." He folded his arms in an attempt to curb his chivalrous need to comfort her. "Ray is . . . that is, I broke things off, Tony. It was not right for either of us. I dragged it out, wanting it to work, but last night . . ." and with this Tony tentatively reached for her arm as if his permission to do so may yet be revoked. She looked up at him and her breathing eased. "I just knew I had to let him, or more accurately the idea of him, go."

He released a breath and stepped closer to her. He knew they were both emotionally exposed even thought they had not voiced anything beyond the fact that Ziva was no longer committed to Ray. They were both such train wrecks when it came to relationships and jumping into something in the men's room, while oddly fitting, seemed like a bad beginning so Tony limited himself to inching over to her and placing both his hands on her shoulders, caressing them with his thumbs to satisfy himself that her breathing, while still occasionally hitched, had improved. While their eyes were continuing the conversation, she gradually raised a tentative hand to his temple and ever so gently massaged his hair. He tilted his head into her fluidly agile fingers and sighed as he finally experienced ultimate pain relief. The culmination of all the years leading up to this moment, the flirting, the sorrow, the loss, the distractions in their way, prompted him to resolve not to let another chance slip away. He enveloped her in his arms and tenderly kissed the top of her head.

Suddenly the door flew open, but in their momentary bliss all they heard was a retreating mutter that sounded strangely like, " Oh, Baby Bunnies!"

**El Fin**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys made my week! Now I need to get back to real life duties, which have taken a back seat while I jumped on Timmy's train of thought. Here's hoping one of these Tuesdays Ziva will regain some self-respect.**

**If you enjoy witty character humor, check out "Ten Nonlinear Moves" by Sequitur. It's the only fic that I've gone back and reread many times when I needed a good laugh. It's brilliant. I don't know the author personally, just feel that good quality work is worth promoting.**


End file.
